t,Dl 


GIFT  OF 
of   1:. 


OME  IDLE  MOMEN 


•o 


, 


.-••" 


- 


SOME  IDLE  MOMENTS 


BY 


CARD    ROMA 


THE     SMITH-BROOKS     COMPANY 

DENVER,     COLORADO 

U  .    S  .    A  . 


Ittell, 

SCENE— TAVERN  OPPOSITE  STAGE  DOOR  OF  A  THEATRE. 

Here,  yer  youngster,  gimme  yer  hand!     Come  in;  sit  down.    Now 

boys, 
Let's  have  a  drink.    Ah,  that's  good!     Say,  Tom,  there's  such  a 

noise 

Yer'd  better  close  the  tavern  door,  for  anyhow  I  reckon 
The  rest  o'  them  folks  can  find  the  way  without  yer  beck'nin'. 
You  actors  are  a  good  smart  lot  when  taken  as  a  whole; 
Of  course,  there  are  a  few  o'  yer  a-lackin'  in  the  soul; 
But  yer  sort  o'  mind  yer  business  and  go  yer  humble  way, 
So  its  none  o'  my  affairs  if  yer  do  turn  night  into  day. 
Ugh !  how  cold  it  is !     Tom,  give  us  a  good  stiff  drink 
And  pile  a  log  upon  the  fire;  this  sort  o'  makes  me  think 
O'  other  Christmas  nights  'round  the  blazin'  logs  at  home, 
Of  days  long  gone  and  old  friends,  too.    Yer  see,  I'm  all  alone. 

Father  and  Mother  and  us  lived  on  the  farm; 
We'd  dogs  and  cats  and  hens  and  pigs,  some  horses  in  the  barn. 
We  had  a  house  with  brand  new  paint,  folks  said  the  best  around; 
And  corn  and  wheat  and  milk  and  eggs,  the  best  that  could  be 

found. 

I  didn't  have  much  schoolin';  yer  see,  they  needed  me 
About  the  place  to  milk  the  cows  or  chop  down  some  old  tree; 
So  Jack,  he  got  the  schoolin',  and  Bill — that's  my  name — 
Was  made  to  go  without;  but  to  me  'twas  all  the  same. 
Once  Pa  and  Ma  were  taken  sick  and  when  the  winter  came, 
Yer  see,  they  died.     Then  Jack  went  West  to  make  himself  a 

name 

Among  the  big  folks  there;  he  married  a  mighty  fine  young  gal; 
Folks   said    she   was   the   sweetest   thing — I   think   they   called 

her  Sal. 

Come,  Tom,  another  drink!     Boys,  I  haint  begun  to  tell 
Half  I've  forgot  about  a  Heaven  and  all  I  know  of  Hell! 
Well,  when  I  was  left  alone  upon  the  dear  old  place, 
I  got  kind  o'  lonesome  for  the  sight  of  a  woman's  face. 
Straightenin'  up  the  big,  square  rooms  was  somehow  out  o'  my 

line; 
I  wasn't  such  a  powerful  cook,  nor  even  a  housemaid  fine. 


855414 


My  clothes  got  torn,  my  toes  were  out,  my  shirts  were  all  in 

shreds; 

I  couldn't  manage  needles  or  stews  and — Gol  darn  take  the  beds! 
I  always  got  the  blankets  a-mixed  up  with  the  sheets, 
And  half  the  time  the  pillows  were  a  way  down  at  the  feet. 
Yer  see,  Ma  was  so  handy  and  tidy  'bout  the  place; 
She  always  went  around  with  a  smile  upon  her  face. 
And  Pa  was  always  whistlin'  as  busy  as  a  bee; 
So  when  I  was  alone  at  home,  by  Gosh!  'twas  hard  for  me. 

One  day,  when  everything  went  wrong  a  workin'  'gainst  my  say, 

I  tho't  I'd  best  find  a  wife;  and  so,  when  on  my  way 

To  market  with  my  load,  I  tho't  I'd  stop  on  the  way  back 

And  tell  Old  Aunty  Grey.    To  make  it  strong,  I  left  a  sack 

O'  potatoes  good  and  new;  I  said,  "Now,  if  yer  only  will, 

Just  find  a  wife  for  yer  lonely  old  friend,  Bill." 

She  only  smiled  and  shook  her  head  a-thinkin'  all  the  while 

Of  where  she'd  look  to  find  a  gal  just  suited  to  my  style. 

I  told  her  all  my  prospects  and  'bout  the  first  new  crop 

O'  peaches,  quinces,  berries,  pears  and  apples,  ready  to  drop 

With  the  weight  o'  their  own  sweetness.     And  'bout  the  house 

and  barn; 

I  reckoned  up  the  sum  I'd  saved — the  earnings  of  the  farm. 
Well,  when  I  left  Old  Auntie  Grey  a-sittin'  by  the  door, 
I  reckon  she  was  thinkin'  o'  me  lots  better  than  ever  before. 

Ah!     Boys,  yer  just  in  time  to  hear  my  story,  too. 

Tom,  a  drink  all  'round  at  my  expense  and  have  the  stuff  good, 

too; 
Well,  say,  twixt  Old  Auntie  Grey  and  me,  we  fixed  the  thing  up 

brown 

And  I  was  married  to  an  angel  afore  the  year  rolled  round. 
I  brought  her  home  one  summer  day  and  in  her  eyes  so  blue 
I  kind  o'  saw  the  teardrops  start.    Yer  see,  'twas  all  so  new 
To  Nell.    I  guess  she  kind  o'  felt  a  little  lonesome  down 
Upon  the  farm,  for, — don't  yer  see? — 'twas  quite  a  ways  from 

town. 
But  when  the  dogs  came  runnin'  up  and  stuck  their  noses  in  her 

hand 

And  Bess  was  kind  o'  neighin'  a  welcome  and  she  saw  all  the  land 
Behind  the  barn,  the  fruit  so  ripe,  the  crops,  the  stock  and  all, 
And  then  saw  me,  I  guess  she'd  not  struck  a  bad  bargain  after  all! 
For  she  kind  o'  put  her  arms  'round  my  neck  and  said,  "Bill, 
My  own  Bill,  I'll  be  a  good,  lovin'  wife.    Yes,  I  will!" 


So  we  sealed  that  bargain  then  and  there  with  a  big,  rousin'  kiss; 
I  tho't  I'd  never  get  nearer  Heaven — no,  never  nearer  than  this. 
She  had  the  bonniest  face,  boys,  with  eyes  of  Heaven's  own  blue; 
With  a  soul  as  pure  as  the  lilies,  a  heart  as  good  and  true. 
Her  hair  was  like  the  youngster's  there,  so  golden  in  the  light; 
She  looked — why,  like  him,  too.    Strange!    what's  the  matter  with 

me  to-night? 
Our  life  was  bright  and  easy;   we  were  happy  the  whole  year 

round, 

And  might  always  have  been  so,  if  a  show  hadn't  come  to  town. 
Yer  see,  there  weren't  no  theaiter,  so  they  asked  me  for  my  barn; 
They  said  they'd  pay  me  handsome  and  promised  to  do  no  harm. 
Besides,  my  barn  was  the  biggest  and  the  newest  near  the  town 
And  the  night  the  showmen  opened  folks  came  from  miles  around. 

Soon  they  packed  the  wooden  benches  at  a  dollar  or  two  a  head, 
And  after  the  play  was  over  they  bargained  for  a  bed. 
They  said  they'd  pay  me  mighty  well  if  I'd  keep  them  over  night 
And  let  the  horses  have  some  hay  and  give  them  all  a  bite. 
I  knew  by  doublin'  up  a  bit  there'd  be  heaps  o'  room  to  spare; 
The  pantry  was  full  o'  goodies,  and  Nell  had  pickled  pears. 
So  we  gave  them  all  they  wanted  and  sat  around  the  fire 
A'listenin'  to  the  stories  o'  a  world  so  great,  'twas  nigher 
Like  fairyland  than  in  the  place  we  lived.    I  saw  by  Nell's  face 
What  the  hero  was  a-tellin'  her;  I  watched  her  eyes  roam  'round 

the  place — 
The  home,  that  I  had  given  her.    And  in  the  mornin'  when  they 

left 

A  roll  o'  gold  behind  them  and  went  their  way,  there  crept 
Between  my  Nell  and  me  a  somethin' — Well,  yer  see,  I  never 

could  tell; 
Perhaps  it  wasn't  the  hero's  words;  perhaps  Nell  wasn't  well. 

I  'fess  the  life  o'  a  farmer's  wife  is  no  great  easy  play; 

There's  butter  to  churn  and  chores  to  do  every  hour  of  the  day. 

I  often  said,  "I  wish,  Nell,  yer'd  let  me  get  a  girl 

To  help  yer  in  and  'bout  the  house."    Her  lips  she'd  proudly  curl 

And  toss  her  golden  hair,  defiant-like,  in  the  sun 

And  say,  "There's  only  just  a  bit  o'  work — just  enough  for  one." 

I  kind  o'  felt,  as  the  year  rolled  by,  perhaps  there'd  come  some 

day 

A  little  bit  o'  an  angel  and  it  might  stay 

To  help  my  Nell  and  help  me,  too;  many's  the  hours  we'd  dream 
And  talk  about  the  little  basket,  the  nest  fit  for  a  queen; 


We'd  fold  the  white  slips  up  and  hold  the  stockings  high; 
Sometimes   I   know — and   I've   seen   Nell's,   too, — that   my   eyes 

weren't  exactly  dry. 

But,  after  all  those  show-folks  went,  Nell  often  seemed  to  sigh, 
And,  as  I'd  look  to  question  her,  I'd  see  her  hard,  dry  eyes 
A-lookin'  far  beyond  the  barn,  away  beyond  the  hills. 
I  never  asked  her  what  she  thought,  for  women  have  their  ills 
And  don't  want  men  a-botherin'  them  by  askin'  that  and  this; 
So  I  waited  and  I  thought  Nell  would  tell  me  what's  amiss. 
Now,  boys,  I  see  yer  smilin';  it  don't  matter  what  its  'bout; 
But  just  have  a  drink  again  with  me  and  only  hear  me  out. 
I  used  to  drive  to  market  every  day  with  fruit  or  grain 
And  Nell  sometimes  would  ask  to  go  if  there  wasn't  any  rain; 
So  I  got  to  takin'  her  'long  with  me;  I'd  put  her  on  the  seat; 
'Twas  then  I  felt  so  proud,  I  did,  with  my  load  o'  double  sweets. 

So  it  happened  when  I  was  rushed  and  couldn't  spare  the  time, 

I'd  hitch  the  ponies  to  the  wagon,  give  Nell  both  the  lines 

And  tell  her  not  to  stay  too  long;  then  with  a  laugh  so  bright 

And  "Alright,  Bill,"  I'd  watch  her  'till  she  got  clean  out  o'  sight. 

Sometimes  she  would  hurry  back  and  seemed  so  bright  and  gay 

As  she  talked  'bout  her  bargains  in  a  woman's  business  way. 

But  one  day  when  she  went  to  town,  and  as  the  dusk  drew  near 

And  neither  Nell  nor  Bess  in  sight,  my  heart  began  to  fear 

Lest  harm  had  come  to  them;  I  thought  I'd  best  run  down 

To  meet  her  and  the  wagon  on  the  way  from  town. 

Calling  Rover  and  the  other  dogs  we  set  out  on  a  run; 

We  had  a  race  or  two,  yer  see,  just  for  a  little  fun 

To  keep  away  the  fear  that  all  with  Nell  wasn't  right; 

Just  as  we  passed  the  first  mile  stone,  Nell  came  into  sight. 

I  hurried  on  and  met  the  load  and  yelled,  "Why,  Nell,  my  pet, 

I  got  a  little  anxious  'bout  yer."    I  saw  her  eyes  were  wet. 

She  hardly  seemed  to  notice  how  awful  glad  I  seemed 

Or  how  I  know  my  joyous  face  must  in  the  dusk  have  gleamed; 

But  sat  so  kind  o'  still  like;  when  I  took  the  reins 

I  fancied  that  her  face  was  pale  and  her  eyes  filled  with  pain. 

We  didn't  either  o'  us  speak  in  the  mile  as  home  we  drove, 

For  I  could  plainly  see  there  was  somethin'  that  my  love 

Was  troubled  'bout;   and  all  that  night  throughout  the  supper 

meal 

She  seemed  so  strange  and  silent.    I  saw  the  teardrops  steal 
Adown  her  cheeks;  then,  seeing  me,  she  wiped  them  quick  away 
As  sometimes  little  children  do  when  quarrelin'  in  their  play. 


A  week  went  by,  and,  save  the  cold  that  o'er  my  heart  would 

creep, 

Life  was  the  same;  yet  oft  at  night  I'd  hear  Nell  in  her  sleep 
A-cryin'  and  a-sobbin'.    And  sometimes  she  would  call 
Aloud  a  name — the  actor's  who  had  showed  here  in  the  fall. 
One  day  I  had  some  work  to  do  a-fixin'  up  a  gate 
And  didn't  reach  the  door  sill  until  'twas  kind  o'  late. 
I  came  into  the  settin'  room,  but  Nell  wasn't  there; 
I  looked  all  'round ;  there  was  nothin'  except  her  vacant  chair 
And  a  note  pinned  on  the  wall.    She'd  gone  away,  she  said, 
To  that  play-actor's  world  with  him!     I  called  upon  the  dead 
To  listen  to  the  vow  I'd  make.    Then  the  hot  words  came 
Which  turn  men's  hearts  to  devils,  their  souls  to  living  flames 
That  scorch  and  burn  on  every  side,  no  matter  what  there  be, 
Leavin'  no  peace,  no  happiness,  not  e'en  Eternity. 

Eh?    "What  did  I  do?"  yer  ask.    "And  did  I  kill  my  man?" 
No.    I  don't  believe  in  vengeance;  for  there's  a  better  plan 
To  rid  the  earth  of  devils  who  lead  a  double  life, 
Who  break  yer  heart,  spoil  yer  life  and  rob  yer  o'  yer  wife. 
I'm  simply  waitin'  for  an  hour;  it's  now  most  fifteen  years. 
I've  been  through  lots  o'  sorrow  and  shed  whole  heaps  o'  tears. 
Still  somehow,  when  the  night  comes  down,  I  let  the  candle  burn. 
Why?    Well,  just  to  show  my  Nell  the  way.    Yet  see,  she  might 

return ; 

And  I  always  want  to  show  her,  by  the  candle  and  its  light, 
That  I  feel  she's  always  welcome,  by  day  as  well  as  night. 
Folks  said  that  he  had  married  her,  but  I  know'd  that  couldn't  be, 
For  only  God  can  break  the  bond  a'tween  my  Nell  and  me; 
And  human  judges  on  this  earth  can't  always  true  decide 
Unless  .you've  got  the  money  and  the  price  o'  many  a  bribe ! 

They  say  he's  quite  an  actor,  though  he  hasn't  got  much  cash; 
And  I've  wondered  if  my  Nell  had  loved  his  world  with  all  its 

dash 

O'  light  and  tinsel-brightness,  with  its  wealth  o'  rosy  fame; 
And  if  she's  happy  with  it  all,  though  she  can't  bear  any  name. 
Perhaps,  some  day,  she  may  come  back  to  Rover  and  to  me 
And  look  'round  the  dear  old  farm  and  through  the  house  and  see 
That  nary  a  thing  has  lost  it's  place — I've  kept  it  best  I  could — 
Even  to  the  pantry  cupboard  and  the  stove  box  full  o'  wood. 
Sometimes,  when  I  look  'round  seein'  the  empty  place, 
I  think  she'd  be  a  little  glad  to  let  her  womanly  grace 
Brighten  the  dreary  loneliness  that  her  long  absence  makes, 
And  feel  at  home,  nestlin'  like,  just  for  loth  our  sakes. 


Well,  youngster,  what's  the  matter?    Yer  eyes  are  kind  o'  wild! 

What's  that  yer  say?    "Yer  lonesome,  yer  no  one's  child 

And  want  to  come  and  live  with  me?"  Say,  what's  yer  Mother's 

name? 
Where's  yer  dad  and  what's  his  name?    "Bill,"  hey?    Why,  that's 

the  same 

As  mine.    What's  round  yer  neck,  kid?    Take  it  off;  let's  see. 
A  locket.    Open  it.    My  God,  boys,  this  once  belonged  to  me! 
And  here  is  Nell's  sweet  face  inside!     Speak,  boy,  who  is  this? 
"Yer  Mother?    And  she  told  yer  to  give  yer  Father  this 
If  ever  yer  should  meet  him?"  A  drink,  Tom — I'm  not  well! ! 
"What's  our  hurry  and  where  are  we  goin'?"    Why,  goin'  to  find 

our  Nell! 


We  never  miss  the  sunshine  until  the  shadows  fall; 

We  ne'er  regret  the  bitter  words  till  passed  beyond  recall; 

We  never  miss  the  laughter  until  the  eyes  are  wet; 

We  never  miss  the  happiness  till  Love's  bright  sun  has  set; 

We  never  miss  the  singing  until  the  birds  have  flown; 

We  never  miss  the  blossoms  until  the  Spring  has  gone; 

We  never  miss  the  joyousness  till  sorrow  bids  us  wake; 

We  never  know  we  have  a  heart  till  it  begins  to  break. 

Dear  Heart,  bring  back  the  sunshine,  my  bitter  words  forget; 

Bring  back  the  joyous  laughter,  my  eyes  with  tears  are  wet; 

Bring  back  our  old  time  happiness;  bid  Love's  bright  sun  arise 

And  shed  its  glorious  radiance  o'er  all  our  Paradise. 

Bring  back  the  song  birds'  music.     Dear  Love,  why  should  we 

part? 
Bid  springtime  blossoms  bloom  again  in  the  garden  of  my  heart. 


Dinner  at  tbe  Club. 


I'm  dining  at  the  Club,  my  Dear, 

On  things  both  rich  and  sweet; 
I  only  wish  that  you  were  here 

To  help  me  share  the  treat. 
No  matter  what  the  courses  are, 

I  still  must  linger  yet 
On  such  another  dinner  hour 

I  shall  not  soon  forget. 

I  know  I  ordered  cocktails  first 

To  whet  our  appetites, 
And  chose  the  brand  of  wine  we'd  have 

On  that  eventful  night. 
I  see  you  now,  as  when  you  sat 

Just  opposite  to  me, 
And  do  not  have  to  shut  my  eyes 

Your  face  again  to  see. 

A  relish?    Olives,  was  it,  Dear, 

Or  was  it  celery? 
I  only  know  the  kiss  I  stole 

Was  relish  enough  for  me; 
For,  as  I  watched  your  blushing  face 

While  ordering  consomme, 
I  never  saw  you  look  so  sweet 

As  you  did  that  happy  day. 

And  then  I  watched  your  dainty  hands 

Spreading  your  bread  with  butter; 
I  marvel  at  my  ordering  fish 

With  my  heart  in  such  a  flutter! 
I'd  never  seen  such  lovely  hands, 

So  soft,  so  round  and  white; 
You  surely  could  not  blame  me  then 

For  holding  them  so  tight. 


While  waiting  for  the  beef  to  come, 

I  untied  your  bonnet  strings; 
And,  as  the  light  fell  on  your  head, 

Each  hair  was  a  golden  thing 
That  wound  itself  about  my  heart 

And  held  me  captive  there; 
The  ringlets  whispered  in  your  ears, 

So  pink,  so  small  and  fair. 

The  duck  was  sweet,  not  overdone, 

With  hominy  on  the  dish; 
You  had  the  wish-bone,  too,  that  night, 

Whilst  I  had  won  the  wish — 
A  silent  wish  that  I  might  sit 

Opposite  always  to  you; 
I  did  not  tell  my  wish  for  fear 

It  might  not  e'er  come  true. 

The  vegetables  were  all  so  good, 

The  salad  a  favorite  one; 
The  lights  were  bright,  but  your  dear  eyes 

Outshone  them,  every  one. 
The  bubbles  in  the  wine  that  night 

Chased  each  other  in  glee, 
To  see  which  first  would  kiss  your  lips, 

So  sweet  and  dear  to  me. 

I  was  jealous  of  them,  every  one, 

And  wished  that  I  were  dead! 
I  felt  like  breaking  the  bottle's  neck 

But  cracked  the  nuts  instead. 
You  noticed  my  selfish,  angry  mood 

And  asked  what  was  the  matter; 
I  don't  remember  what  I  said, 

My  thoughts  made  such  a  clatter. 

However,  the  cafe  noir  soon  settled  it; 

My  cigarette  then  you  lit; 
Your  face  shone  bright  in  the  match's  light 

As  your  lips  closed  tight  'round  it; 
I  remember  even  the  very  brand — 

They  were  those  with  golden  tips — 
And  when  you  passed  it  back  to  me, 

I  kissed,  instead,  your  lips. 

10 


The  smoke  curled  upwards  in  the  room; 

My  heart  was  burning,  too; 
I  held  you  close;  you  could  not  move 

While  I  stole  your  heart  from  you. 
What  mattered  that  your  scolding  tongue 

Lied  for  your  love-lit  eyes, 
Or  that  your  sweetly  trembling  voice 

Spoke  only  in  Love's  sighs? 

Ah,  well,  dear  Wife,  Time  onward  flies! 

Yet  now  at  dinner  to-night 
I'm  thinking  of  you,  and  Memory 

Has  stolen  my  appetite; 
For — don't  you  see? — that  whilst  enjoying 

This  menu  through  and  through, 
I  still  am  left  unsatisfied, 

For  I'm  hungry,  Dear,  for  you! 


V 


Y/lien  midst  Life's  ever-changing  scenes 
My  life  seems  filled  with  rue, 

And  doubt  and  cares  surround  my  path, 
Dear  Lord,  please  keep  me  true. 

The  way  is  dark;  my  feet  are  sore; 

My  friends  are  none  or  few: 
The  day  is  long  and  I'm  alone; 

Dear  Lord,  please  keep  me  true. 

My  Faith  is  blind  since  Love  has  gone; 

E'en  Hope  seems  oft  untrue: 
Temptations  crowd  about  my  way; 

Dear  Lord,  please  keep  me  true. 

Lead  with  Thy  hand  my  faltering  steps 

And  guide  me  safe  to  You; 
Speak  with  Thy  voice  that  I  may  hear; 

Dear  Lord,  please  keep  me  true. 

ll 


IFUnon— H  /iDemor^  of  "Ell  Souls' 


Ninon,  someone's  singing  our  old  favorite  song 

While  I  sit  apart  from  the  crush  and  throng; 

And  somehow  just  now,  as  the  words  ebb  and  flow, 

I'm  thinking  of  you  and  our  Long  Ago. 

As  I  saw  you  then,  so  I  see  you  to-night; 

You  always  were  dressed  in  some  gown  that  I  liked; 

I  remember  them  all — in  each  you  were  sweet 

From  the  curls  on  your  head  to  the  soles  of  your  feet. 

The  jewels  you  wore — I  remember  them,  too; 
And  how  you  did  love  your  turquoises  blue. 
There's  not  one  wee  hour  I've  spent  with  you,  Dear, 
I've  ever  forgotten  throughout  this  long  year. 
The  suppers  we've  had,  the  dim  lights  and  the  wine 
Made  rosy  your  cheeks  and  your  dear  eyes  shine 
Far  brighter  than  most  jewels  I  see  here  to-night, 
No  matter  how  clear  or  how  bright  in  this  light. 

This  song  always  brought  such  sad  tears  to  your  eyes ; 

I  hated  to  see  them  or  hear  your  deep  sighs. 

I  used  to  reach  out  for  your  soft,  pretty  hand 

To  press  it  and  calm  all  your  quivering  fears;  and 

Then  having  found  it,  I'd  stand  by  your  chair 

With  an  arm  'round  your  shoulders  so  snowy  and  fair; 

I  think  the  best  moment  of  all  that  sad  bliss 

Was  when  my  lips  bent  to  answer  your  kiss. 

I  can  see  through  the  door  a  vast  sea  of  faces 

All  smiling  and  happy.    There,  are  numberless  graces 

Combined  in  these  women  and  brave,  loyal  men; 

Yet  none  seem  so  fair  as  you  did  to  me  then. 

Your  voice  was  so  loving,  your  laughter  sincere, 

Your  heart  seemed  more  constant  than  most  of  these  here. 

And  all  that  you  did  was  done  but  to  please; 

Ah,  Ninon,  you  witch,  you  knew  how  to  tease ! 

12 


There's  Marie — my  Marie — so  sweet  and  so  true; 

Everyone  loves  her; — she's  beautiful,  too; 

Yet  now  as  I  gaze  on  her  lovely,  fair  face 

And  note  all  her  movements  of  womanhood's  grace, 

I  feel  the  deep  peace  of  a  satisfied  life 

That's  filled  with  the  love  of  a  dear,  little  wife; 

I  know  she's  the  fairest  of  all  in  this  throng, 

Yet  somehow  you  are — well,  you're  different,  Ninon. 

The  song  has  just  ended.    There  are  tears  in  my  eyes; 
I'm  almost  ashamed,  for  I  detest  men  who  cry. 
Marie's  voice  is  calling;  it's  time  we  were  gone. 
My  cigarette's  out.    How  cold  the  night's  grown! 
I  only  hope  the  fire  at  home's  burning  bright; 
How  you  loved  the  warmth,  the  shadows  and  light. 
I'll  have  one  more  smoke  with  a  long  "B  and  S" 
While  Marie  and  all  have  gone  to  their  rest. 

How  my  thoughts  wander  back  to  that  Long  Ago 

When  I  first  knew  I  loved  you  and  then  told  you  so. 

Our  heather  has  faded.    In  Death's  valley  again 

It  is  Holy  Day,  Ninon;  yet  never  again 

For  either  of  us  will  "All  Souls'  Day"  return. 

Still,  somehow  to-night  my  thoughts  to  you  turn; 

I'm  living  again  old  scenes  past  and  gone 

While  thinking  of  you,  Ninon, — of  you  and  the  song. 


13 


They  brought  me  home  a  telegram  which  said  that  she  had  died; 

And  as  I  read  the  cruel  words,  I  felt  they  must  have  lied; 

For  only  yesterday  it  seemed  that  I  had  seen  her  face 

And  watched  her  every  movement  so  full  of  womanly  grace. 

I  tried  to  hide  the  teardrops  that  in  my  eyes  would  creep 

And  tell  my  heart  that  surely  she'd  only  fallen  asleep. 

I  reached  the  darkened  chamber  and  saw  her  form  so  fair; 

It  seemed  to  mock  my  senses  to  think  that  Death  was  there. 

From  out  the  close-shut  curtains  a  little  ray  of  light 

Fell  just  across  her  golden  locks  upon  her  breast  so  white; 

And  on  her  face  she  wore  a  smile,  so  softly  sweet  and  deep, 

It  seemed  as  though  some  happy  dream  had  come  to  her  in  sleep. 

The  world  had  called  her  cruel  names,  this  creature  sweet  and 

fair; 
For   she  had   lured  men's   souls  to  Hell  and  filled  them  with 

despair; 
Her  moulded  arms  so  soft  and  white  had  closed  round  many  a 

heart 

And  held  it  close  upon  her  own  as  if  to  never  part. 
Her  lips  had  breathed  forth  sweet  perfume  which  filled  the  very 

air; 

And  many  a  soul  of  honor  had,  while  lingering,  perished  there. 
Her  voice  had  called  in  accents  so  passionately  clear 
The  fondest  names  and  sweet  nothings  which  yet  to  her  were 

dear. 

Mad  Passion,  crowned  above  her  brow,  forgot  pure  Virtue's  prize; 
Then  rushing  on  in  flooding  waves,  it  swept  o'er  many  lives 
And  left  its  wreck  where  it  had  flowed  across  some  tender  heart, 
While  she,  the  Fount-head  of  the  stream,  was,  of  those  lives,  a 

part. 

I  loved  her,  yes,  as  all  men  love  mad  creatures,  free  and  fair, 
And  to  her  heart  had  often  crept  (just  as  the  sunbeam  there 
Had  fallen  on  her  folded  hands  crossed  on  her  silent  breast) 
For  kisses  sweet  and  love's  embrace  which  lulled  us  to  night's 
rest. 

14 


But  when  I  saw  her  cold  and  still  and  knew  her  life  was  o'er, 

I  loved  her  then — God  be  my  judge! — as  I'd  ne'er  loved  before; 

And  as  I  fell  upon  my  knees  beside  her  silent  bed 

A  tiny  hand  stole  into  mine;  I  felt  a  little  head 

Nestling  close  beside  my  own,  and  when  its  face  met  mine 

I  saw  brown  eyes — her  eyes  were  blue — oh,  God!  brown  eyes  like 

mine 
That  read  my  inmost  thoughts  and  soul!     A  voice  that  "Papa" 

said, 
Brought  home  to  me  the  cruel  truth!     My  child!     Mine  own, 

the  dead! 
****** 

We  buried  her,  the  child  and  I,  when  day  had  ceased  its  strife; 
The  plain,  white  shaft  above  her  breast  is  marked  with  one  word, 
"Wife." 


ZTbee? 


And  yet  thou  sayest  I  doubt  thee !     Can  not  thy  heart 

Read  mine  own?    Its  beatings  have  clung  to  thee,  forming  a  part 

Of  thine  own  heart.    Have  not  my  lips,  fraught 

With  love's  sweet  dew,  been  pressed  to  thine,  caught 

And  held  a  prisoner  there  for  thine  own  keeping?    Because  in 

Mine  own  saddened  life  the  roses  mingled  with  thorns  have  been, 

Thinkest  thou  I  should  withhold  from  thee  Love's  own 

Roses  until  from  their  petals  their  sweets  had  flown? 

Ah,  no!    It  was  not  because  I  doubted  thee  my  arms 

Untwined  from  about  thy  neck,  shielded  from  all  harms 

Mine  own  self  that  nestled  close  to  thee;  in  that  hold 

I  felt  my  very  life  secure.    Ah,  Love,  was  I  bold 

To  love  thee  so?    Your  very  touch  upon  my  hair 

Dispelled  all  fears,  which,  in  my  soul,  may  have  entered  there. 

Your  eyes,  like  mine,  went  forth  to  meet 

Their  namesakes  in  one  glance  rich  and  sweet. 

It  was  not  because  I  doubted  thee  I  prayed  for  thy  caress 

To  cease — though  in  that  prayer  I  lost  all  sight  of  the  blest. 

But,  it  is  because  of  mine  own  doubting  heart.    The  world,  so  old, 

Holds  naught  out  to  me.    Already  mine  own  cold 

Distrust  has  chilled  my  soul's  warm  sigh. 

We  are  so  tired  of  life — so  tired! — my  heart  and  I! 

15 


flfcotber. 


What  is  it,  my  child?    Why  do  I  see  tears 

Upon  your  cheeks?    Troubles?    Let  me  cheer 

Your  weary  heart.    You  are  my  child  yet  and  I 

Am  your  mother,  Dear.    Do  you  not  think  I 

Understand  your  heart?    There's  not  a  doubt 

But  that  your  mother's  heart  can  wipe  out. 

Lonely?    Ah,  no,  dear  child,  that  must  not  be; 

For  have  I  still  not  you  and  have  you  not  me  ? 

Or,  is  it  because  Childhood's  days  and  joys 

Have  so  swiftly  flown?    Did  you  leave  their  glittering  toys 

For  dawning  Womanhood's  cares?    Child,  I  could  have  told 

You  of  those  years  to  come;  how  the  laughing  gold 

So  quickly  turns  to  saddened  silver  in  your  hair; 

And  on  your  youthful  heart  how  soon  grief  could  nestle  there. 

But  I  could  not  bring  that  lesson  to  your  young  breast 

While  at  my  side  I  had  you.    I  silently  prayed  for  rest 

And  slumber  sweet  to  fall  on  you.    Love  comes  to  all, 

My  child,  but  once;  if  its  sweetness  turns  to  gall 

Ere  our  lips  have  touched  the  crystal  glass, 

We  still  must  drink  its  bitter  dregs;  that  is  the  last 

And  greatest  sorrow,  child,  that  can  to  us  befall. 

I  had  hoped  to  make  thy  sorrow  less;  yet,  during  all 

Thy  baby-life  I  knew  this  hour  would  come. 

Tell  me  thy  sorrows,  Dear.    Perhaps  by  some 

One,  sweet  phrase  I  may  help  to  brighten  the  pages 

Of  your  story,  which,  like  Humanity's,  runs  through  all  ages. 

Do  you  not  remember  how,  in  your  young  baby-days 

I  soothed  your  heart  and  sung  you  soft,  sweet  lays 

Which  carried  you  to  Dreamland's  golden  shore? 

I  mended  broken  toys  and  kissed  away  your  tears;  now,  as  before, 

I  still  can  comfort  you.    There  is  no  need 

Or  prayer,  half -whispered,  but  that  I  hear;  no  weed 

Growing  o'er  thy  heart  uprooting  the  flower-seeds 

Of  "Love,"  of  "Faith"  and  "Hope,"  but  that  I  can  destroy. 

16 


A  Mother's  heart  is  the  only  gold  without  alloy. 

You,  child,  may  yet  have  warm  hearts  about  your  own, 

Giving  to  you,  as  you  have  to  me,  the  dearest  meaning  of  "Home." 

So  tell  me,  Dear — are  you  not  your  mother's  child  still? — 

The  fears  and  trials,  doubts  and  tears  that  do  your  young  heart 

fill, 

And  I  will  weep  with  thee.    A  mother's  heart  feels  all  on  earth. 
There  are  no  Joys,  no  Rest,  no  Happiness,  but  in  that  heart  have 

birth. 

u 

l£on  Setting  Sun. 


Yon  setting  sun,  who,  o'er  all  the  world 

Dost  throw  thy  bright  mantle  of  light 

And  bid  old  Earth  repose,  as  might 

The  tired  heart  of  man  at  night, 

Shed  o'er  us  thy  glad  influence  of  peace, 

E'en  while  upon  yon  steeple's  cross 

Thou  fallest.    All  to  us  is  bitter  dross; 

We  naught  can  remember  but  our  loss 

Of  that  within  us,  which  might  bring  rest. 

The  tired  eyes  that  strain  to  catch 

A  glimpse  of  some  once-beloved  face; 

Sad,  yearning  hearts,  which  perchance  through  grace 

Didst  win  among  Earth's  blest,  a  place; 

Dear  hands,  within  whose  open  palms 

Was  found  the  Source  of  every  balm; 

Send  to  these  thy  blessed  calm 

Which  falls  on  Earth,  when,  with  all  ills 

Thou  droppest  behind  our  Western  hills. 

Then,  calm  as  thou,  we  shall  repent 

Of  lives  misused  and  years  misspent; 

Of  deeds,  of  words  and  actions  sent 

To  wounded  hearts.    If,  when  we  bow 

Before  Creation's  Maker,  we  then  as  now 

Feel  aggrieved  within  us  for  our  false  vows 

That  we  have  taken,  how  sweet  and  blest 

Will  be  our  heaven's  long-needed  rest 

To  us  who  watch  thee  set  and  cry,  "His  ways  are  best. 

17 


IRiversifce, 


Grant,  dead  warrior,  beside  whose  tomb  I  stand  and  gaze 
Upon  the  iron  shroud  which  holds  thee;  Life's  day's 
Shortness  comes  to  mine  own  memory.    Sorrowfully  I  think 
Of  that  hour  when  I  shall  come  to  the  dark  brink 
Of  that  narrow  stream  which  now  but  separates  me  and  thee. 
I  love  thy  great,  country-loving  heart  with  its  courage,  which 

earned  for  thee 

Life's  best  crown — the  victories  thou  had'st  gained  above 
All  other  earthly  warriors.     Ah!   my  own  poor  life!     Through 

Love 

How  many  battles  have  I  gained?    How  many  aching  hearts 
Have  I  soothed?    To  what  homes  have  I  brought  rest?    Apart 
From  all  other  joys,  where  have  I  lain  the  hand  of  Peace 
As  thou  hast  done?     How  many   cruel,  heartless   words   have 

ceased 

Half-spoken,  as  did  the  cannon's  angry  mouths  at  thy  command? 
How  many  battles  of  self  have  I  won?    Where  in  all  our  land 
Is  thy  equal?    And  yet,  here  thou  art!     These  iron  bars 
Which  shield  thine  ashes  are  but  our  Flag's  broad  stripes;   its 

stars 

The  flowers,  the  immortelles  which  rest  upon  thy  bed. 
Calm  Hudson  flows,  ever  singing  to  thee  the  lullaby  of  the  Dead. 
The  trees  stand  sentinels  o'er  thy  mound  of  rest;  the  canopy  of 

Heaven 
Protects  thee  from  all  thoughts  of  envy  or  distrust.     To  thee  is 

given 

That,  for  which  we  all  do  pray  even  in  the  still  and  deep 
Hours  of  the  wakeful  night — God's  own  blessed  sleep! 
So  rest  on,  sleeping  warrior!     Thy  helmet,  sword  and  shield 
Are  by  thy  side;  thou  art  but  sweetly  dreaming  upon  Heaven's 

battle  field. 

Thou  shalt  not  fear  the  trumpet  that  calls  thee  to  arise,  for  then 
Thy  bugler  shall  be  but  God's  messenger  of  Peace.     Thy  tired 

soul  shall  send 
Its  winging  flight  to  Heaven,  joining  thy  comrades  in  that  sacred 

spot 

Where  battles,  sorrows,  tears  and  death  shall  surely  enter  not. 
Therefore,  sleep,  oh,  tired  warrior !     The  camp  fire  burns  low  and 

bright; 

18 


Around  thee  falls  the  hallowed  rest,  the  blissful  sleep  of  night; 

Thy  dreams  are  dreams  of  peace;  thou  can'st  not  e'en  hear  the 
sentry's  call; 

Discord,  too,  resteth;  all  is  still.  Peace  upon  thy  sleeping  com- 
rades falls; 

And  thou,  thyself,  oh,  warrior,  art  still.  Thy  helmet,  sword  and 
shield 

Are  by  thy  side;  thou  art  only  dreaming  upon  Heaven's  battle 
field. 


H  Bacbelor's  IReverte, 


Dear  partner  of  my  joys  and  woes, 
You  dear  old  pipe  of  mine! 

I  watch  the  smoke  that  upward  goes 
With  memories  entwined. 

Glad  Childhood  lies  so  far  behind; 

The  present  hour  is  mine: 
The  Future  spell,  if  ill  or  kind, 

Is  yours — dear  pipe  of  mine. 

Lead  where  you  will  midst  joy  or  rue, 
Your  life  with  mine  entwined 

Will  prove  companionship  most  true, 
You  dear  old  pipe  of  mine. 

I  see  again  the  forms  and  faces 
Of  sweethearts  once  fondly  mine; 

I  feel  their  ever  present  graces 
In  this  old  pipe  of  mine. 

Oh,  Woman,  Woman,  never  complain! 

For  even  with  beauties  thine, 
You  cannot  heal  my  heart's  sad  pain 

As  this  old  pipe  of  mine! 

19 


Babs's  fftrst  Sboes, 


'Tis  many  years  since  they  were  worn, 

My  baby's  shoes,  so  old  and  torn; 

And  though  the  years  have  passed  away, 

To  me  it  seems  but  yesterday 

I  fastened  on  his  little  feet 

His  first  new  shoes,  so  trim  and  neat. 

Ah,  how  I  saw  in  his  bright  eyes 

The  look  of  wondering  surprise, 

As  pointing  with  a  finger  small 

He  laughed,  and  tried  to  tell  me  all 

His  childish  thoughts  in  lisping  coos 

And  thank  me,  too,  for  his  new  shoes. 

Here's  a  hole.    Ah!  his  big  toe 

With  upward  tendency  would  go; 

And  here's  the  heel,  all  rubbed  and  worn, 

And  eyelets  small,  so  old  and  torn. 

Dear  Baby's  shoes,  you've  traveled  miles 

And  are  the  cause  of  tears  or  smiles 

Which  in  the  Mother's  heart  have  birth 

Wherever  there's  a  babe  on  earth. 

Tears,  when  erringly  you've  trod 

The  path  that  leads  away  from  God; 

Smiles,  at  steps  so  nobly  taken 

In  Life's  great  cause,  with  Faith  unshaken. 

Of  all  the  jewels,  rich  and  rare, 

Worn  on  the  breast  of  Womanhood  fair, 

There's  one  heart-gem  from  sight  hid  deep — 

The  first  shoes  worn  by  baby  who  sleeps; 

And  one  sad  hour  of  all  the  years 

Of  Motherhood  that's  fraught  with  tears; 

That  one  sad  hour — say  what  you  choose — 

She  weeps,  alone,  o'er  baby's  first  shoes. 


20 


OLo\>e's  Burial. 


I  buried  my  heart  in  a  grave,  wide  and  deep, 

And  bade  it  repose  in  a  long,  dreamless  sleep; 

But  its  soul — this  sweet  message — flew  outward  to  you 

To  answer  your  heart  with  its  love  fond  and  true. 

I  planted  sweet  pansies,  dear  Memory's  friends, 
With  hearts  that  seem  into  friends'  faces  to  blend; 
But  when  they  had  blossomed,  I  saw  your  sweet  face 
In  every  dear  flower  which  spoke  of  your  grace. 

I  heard  the  birds  calling  afar  to  their  own, 
When  daylight  to  gloaming  had  quietly  grown; 
And  then  in  their  answers  so  soft  and  so  clear, 
Methought  your  voice  called  me  in  tones  sweet  and  dear. 

I  know,  though  Love's  buried  between  you  and  me, 
And  even  upon  Earth  your  face  I'll  ne'er  see, 
My  thoughts  and  my  heart  rush  onward  to  you 
To  answer  your  heart  with  its  love  fond  and  true. 

tr 
"Hnfc  U  Mill  <3ix>e  Ubee  1Rest." 


Be  still,  sad  heart,  yet  just  a  while 
And  thou  shalt  see  thy  Maker's  smile 
As  He  enfolds  thee  to  His  breast 
And  bids  thee  seek  His  promised  rest. 

What  though  thy  task  is  never  light, 
Nor  through  thy  day  there  beams  no  light? 
Have  patience,  heart;  through  good  or  ill 
The  Father  is  thy  Saviour  still. 

Bear  but  a  while  thy  cross  and  pains, 
For  earthly  sorrows  are  heavenly  gains 
To  thee  who'll  wear  a  crown  so  blest 
When  thou  shalt  KNOW  His  promised  rest. 

21 


H  jfool's  parafcise. 

I  hold  you  close  in  my  arms,  Dear. 

These  arms  so  strong  and  bold: 
I  look  at  your  sweet,  changeful  face, 

Then  you  to  my  loving  heart  fold. 

I  hear  your  sad,  smothered  sighs 
And  watch  the  shadows  gray 

Falling  across  your  golden  hair 
As  if  in  their  merry  play. 

I  bend  my  face  to  your  paled  one 

And  lay  my  lips  on  thine. 
Ah,  why  will  you  mock  at  me  thus, 

Knowing  you  ne'er  can  be  mine? 

Your  eyes  look  straight  into  mine 
Without  one  questioning  fear. 

Your  hands  clasp  mine,  holding  my  life 
To  yours — Ah,  Love,  so  near! 

I  love  you;  how  I  love  you! 

Your  life  may  never  join  mine ; 
Still  I  shall  always,  always  love  you 

Throughout  this  life  of  mine! 

TT 

Zone's  Seasons. 


In  Springtime  when  the  leaves  were  green, 

All  nature  was  blithe  and  gay; 
The  silver  stream  sang  merrily 

And  Life  was  Love's  young  day. 
You  loved  me  then.     In  Summertime 

The  richness  of  nature  fell 
About  our  lives;  I  loved  you,  too — 

More  than  my  lips  could  tell. 
But  the  leaves  turned  brown  and  the  silvery  stream 

A  rushing  torrent  spread; 
Over  all  nature  sad  Winter  reigned, 

And  your  love  for  me  was  dead. 


Xore's 


When  Life's  sweet  roses  are  crushed  and  torn 
And  from  their  petals  their  scent  has  gone, 
I  will  remember,  remember  Dear. 
Love's  fragrant  roses  of  Yesteryear. 

When  Life's  long  hours  are  filled  with  care 
And  Duty's  cross  seems  hard  to  bear, 
I  will  remember,  remember  Dear, 
Love's  happy  hours  of  Yesteryear. 

When  through  my  lone  heart  in  minor  strain 
Life's  weary  music  sobs  once  again, 
I  will  remember,  remember  Dear, 
Love's  joyous  melody  of  Yesteryear. 

Crushed,  faded  roses;  sad  music's  strain; 
Ah,  happy  hours  that  come  not  back  again! 
Life's  years  go  by.    Dear  Heart,  be  true. 
I  will  remember  and  wait  for  you. 

0 

TTbe  S)umb  Xover. 


You  ask  me  why  I  love  her, 

My  little  sweetheart  fair, 
And  why  I  think  no  other 

Has  quite  such  golden  hair; 
Or  eyes  that  speak  so  plainly 

Of  love,  so  deep  and  trae; 
I  do  not  know  my  ovm  self. 

How  can  I  then  tell  you? 

I  only  know  I  love  her; 

It's  just  because  I  do; 
I  know  full  well  without  her, 

My  life  would  be  but  rue. 
There'd  be  no  sun  to  guide  me, 

No  moon  in  Heaven's  blue; 
It's  just  because  I  love  her 

That  I  love  her  as  I  do. 

23 


ifctsmet. 


Dearest,  must  my  Life  leave  yours 

And  from  your  Life  go? 
Oh  God !     How  I  shall  miss  you — 

You,  whom  I  love  so! 
My  ears  will  miss  your  calling, 

My  eyes  look  up  in  vain 
For  just  one  dear,  answering  look 

To  comfort  my  weary  pain. 
My  arms  must  fall  from  your  neck, 

I  must  stifle  my  breaking  heart's  cry 
As  you  turn  away  to  leave  me, 

Perhaps  alone  to  die. 
I  must  forget  your  tender  vows, 

Forget  that  we  ever  met; 
You  shall  not  hear  me  call  you 

As  I  gaze  with  pale  cheeks  wet. 
I  will  be  brave  and  strong,  Dear, 

Knowing  Love's  strength,  oh,  full  well ! 
Some  day  I  may  return  to  you 

And  your  Life — Ah,  who  can  tell? 


parting. 


Again  we  stand  as  in  the  by-gone  days 

And  watch  the  fading  of  the  sunset  rays; 

My  hands  clasp  yours  with  tender  pain 

Knowing  we  ne'er  shall  meet  again. 

Then  kiss  me,  Love,  as  in  the  olden  times 

When  hearts  beat  gladly  to  Love's  merry  chimes; 

Forevermore  to  us  they'll  bring 

Sad  Mem'ry  with  her  bitter  sting. 

The  rose  is  dying  on  your  bosom  fair, 

I  kiss  the  sunlight  in  your  golden  hair. 

Ah,  Love!     If  you  had  loved  me  well 

This  would  not  be  our  last  Farewell. 

24 


Smofee, 


A  couch  on  which  a  fair  head  lay; 

A  cigarette;  a  smile  as  soft  as  day; 

A  day  on  which  the  sunshine  broke; 

A  match;  a  sigh;  a  cloud.    It  all  ends  in  smoke. 

A  song  whose  echoes  softly  fell 

Around  my  heart  and  wove  its  mystic  spell. 

Your  laugh;  my  cry;  a  heart  that  broke; 

What  matters  Life  or  Love?    It  all  ends  in  smoke. 

Love,  despair,  happiness  or  joy; 

Some  lives  mixed  with  no  alloy; 

'Tis  all  the  same.    Satan  claims  us  for  his  coke; 

Bright,  warm  Hell  is  ours!     We  all  end  in  smoke. 


u 
Hbsence. 


A  sigh;  a  tear;  a  last  "Goodbye;" 

And  lovers  twain  are  parted. 
A  bell;  a  shriek;  a  cloud  of  smoke; 

The  railway  coach  has  started. 
A  pen;  some  ink;  a  clean  white  sheet; 

An  avowal  so  devoted; 
A  slip;  a  lie;  some  heated  words; 

A  little  "rumpus"  noted. 
The  letters  cease;  the  coach  returns; 

The  lover  homeward  comes,  sir; 
He  meets  his  love;  a  nod;  a  smile; 

But  no  fond  heart  has  stirred,  sir. 
A  year;  say  two;  they  meet  again 

And  speak  of  times  long  past,  sir; 
(He)  "Ah,  what  a  flirt!    Was't  this  I  loved?" 
(She)   (Introducing  him  to  a  friend.) 

"Your  name?    Ah,  yes,  Smith!     I'd  quite  forgot,  sir." 

25 


H  Mite's  IReason— H>it>orcet>. 


If  you  were  here,  what  should  I,  what  could  I  say  to  you? 

You,  who  sent  me  sorrowing  from  your  side  long  since!     Do 

You  count  the  weary  hours  that  pass,  or  the  last 

Few  years  which  blest  our  lives?    Now  all  is  past. 

What  for  me  does  the  future  hold  true? 

I  could  but  go  when  cruelly  you  sent  me  from  you. 

Does  not  my  touch  burn  still  within  your  hands? 

Whose  lips,  save  mine,  could  bind  with  such  bands 

Of  powerful  sweetness?    Will  not  your  aching  brow 

Recall  my  caressing  hand?    Yet  now 

I  sit  alone;  I  know  not  even  where  you  are; 

I  can  remember  only  that  you  bade  me  go!     The  blow 

Of  your  harsh  words  has  fallen  quick  and  deep; 

Its  traces  will  never  leave  my  heart — even  in  its  last,  long  sleep. 

I  could  not  answer  you!     My  outstretched  arms  fell  back 

Upon  my  own  sorrowing  breast.    If  my  voice  lacked 

Its  once  sweetness,  it  was  because  your  words,  so  cold, 

Had  sunk  upon  my  very  heart's  warmth.    Only  old 

Memories  are  left  to  me.    Still  I  know,  I  feel 

That  you  still  love  and  will  miss  me.    Your  wounds  may  heal; 

Still,  within  your  life  there'll  be  one  spot 

Where  Peace  can  never  enter  and  where  not 

Even  calm  Content  shall  dwell.    So  shall  I  wait  and  wait; 

It  may  be  years  shall  come  and  go;  grow  early  and  grow  late; 

But  at  last  you  will  call  me,  e'en  though  you  bade  me  go, 

And  I  will  come  to  you!    Why?    Because  I  love  you  so! 


flnfcex. 


Nell  3 

Longing  8 

Dinner  at  the  Club 9 

My  Prayer 11 

Ninon— A  Memory  of  "All  Souls'  Day" 12 

Regret  14 

Doubting  Thee? 15 

Mother   16 

Yon  Setting  Sun 17 

Riverside  18 

A  Bachelor's  Reverie 19 

My  Baby's  First  Shoes 20 

Love's  Burial 21 

"And  I  Will  Give  Thee  Rest" 21 

A  Pool's  Paradise 22 

Love's  Seasons 22 

Love's  Yesteryear 23 

The  Dumb  Lover 23 

Kismet  24 

Parting 24 

Smoke   25 

Absence 25 

A  Wife's  Reason — Divorced .26 


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